Masquerade

by Nora Ash

  “Oh! N-ngh!” I frantically push at his massive shoulders and try to drag his hand away from my tormented flesh. “It’s too soon, I can’t! It’s too much!”

  Every nerve in my abused little nub screams from hyper stimulation, causing my poor pussy to contract around his thick meat once again. The stimulation is way too much, way too soon after my orgasm and I thrash to escape his touch. But there is no escaping my alpha, not now, not ever, and soon my wails change pitch as I crash over the edge again. Hard.

  This time, I do sob as I slouch in his arms, too spent to even complain about the pleasure he just forced me to endure.

  He nuzzles at my neck, making soothing noises deep in his throat as he gently slips out of my sodden folds and carries me through my apartment. When he puts me down on a soft surface, I realize he’s brought me to my bedroom.

  He lays us both down on top of the sheets and wraps me up in his strong arms until I finally stop crying.

  “You’re okay,” he whispers against my hair. “You’re safe.”

  Despite the roughness of his voice, his words and his embrace soothes me better than any glass of wine ever has in the past. I look up into his eyes and see them hooded with the same unquenchable lust as before, and I realize that we’re not done—he’s just allowing me a small break. Something I should probably be thankful for, judging by the firm, pulsing pressure resting against my stomach.

  “Is it always this rough?” I croak. My throat hurts from all the screaming, and I swallow thickly in an effort to relieve some of the aching.

  “Yes.” He places a kiss on my swollen lips and gets up, untangling himself from me. “You will get used to it.”

  I’m pretty sure he’s right, I dazedly agree while I watch him leave the bedroom. His ass flexes mesmerizingly as he walks, and despite the wrecked state of my mind and pussy I feel a simmering heat brewing down low in my abdomen. I don’t know if it’s just the sight of his ridiculously powerful body, or if it’s his still unsated pheromones filling the air, but I want him again.

  God help me, I want him.

  He returns with a glass of water, and when I struggle to sit up he pulls me into a seated position and wraps an arm around me so I don’t have to keep myself upright while I drink.

  We sit in silence while I empty the contents of the glass one careful sip at a time. When I’m done he lifts a hand to my face and wipes a drop of water from my lip.

  “Done?”

  I know what he’s asking—if I’m ready for more. Not that he’d ever say it outright, I realize. He’s my alpha—he doesn’t ask for sex, he demands. But still, he ensures my willingness, and it’s oddly endearing. Something I used to take for granted in lovers now seems like a kindness, and if I was completely with it I’d probably hate myself for submitting to alpha norms so easily.

  But I’m high on endorphins and his delicious scent, and the simple question makes my heart flutter.

  He cares that I’m happy. He cares about me.

  “Yes.”

  The masked man gently takes the glass from me and puts it on the bedside table before he wraps both hands around my face and dips his lips to mine. The kiss is languid and soft at first, like a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

  The heat down low grows for every swipe of his tongue against mine, and when he pushes me back down on the bed I follow willingly. Soon, his hand brushes down my stomach to my legs, delving into the slick folds with ease.

  I mewl in half-protest when he brushes over my clit, but he doesn’t torment the still-aching nub further. Instead, he pushes a finger into my swollen opening and gently thrusts in and out a few times, giving me a lazy smirk.

  “Much better. You’re not so damn tight now.”

  “And whose fault is that?” My attempt at being snarky dies somewhat to my breathless tone and my hips slowly rocking up to meet his finger.

  “Mine.” It’s a low, rich growl, and I know he takes pride in having conquered my pussy so completely. Without preamble he pulls back, grabs me by the hips and flips me onto my stomach.

  I huff when I land face-down on the mattress, and grunt when he drags me onto my hands and knees. The bed sinks under his weight as he kneels behind me.

  “Beautiful,” he growls. “I love you like this—on your knees, with your pussy gaping open for me. So defenseless. All mine.”

  I shiver at his words, and again when he brushes his palm over the length of my swollen sex. Then the now familiar pressure of his broad head catches in the mouth of my pussy, and I bite my lip to prepare for the inevitable.

  This time, he spears me in one swift motion, bottoming out as he grabs my hips to stop my automatic surge forward.

  I whimper as my sore channel is spread open to the core again, but it’s easier this time. Hardly painful at all, save for the swollen walls of my oversexed pussy. And the feeling of having him inside of me again… I moan with completion, and then again with want as he pulls back, only to slam forward once more.

  His pace is rough from the start this time, his heavy balls slapping a fast rhythm against my flesh.

  I thrash on the bed in front of him, lost in the pleasure of finally being taken like every instinct in my body knows he’s been needing from the very start—on my hands and knees with this wild beast of a man behind me, fucking me ruthlessly.

  Underneath him, I let myself go completely. There’s nothing but him and me now, nothing but his impossibly big cock pounding inside of me like he can never get enough. I thrash and I scream like a woman possessed, begging, pleading, demanding for every gasped breath as I take him over and over and over again. I cuss him for fucking me even as I cry out in pleasure, I cuss him for not coming to me sooner, and when he grinds against my G-spot particularly viciously, I try to twist around and scratch at him in retaliation.

  That’s when his teeth clamp shut around the back of my neck.

  Instantly, I go limp underneath him. My arms give out as he triggers the sensitive receptors at my nape, and I whimper in confusion and surrender. My brain hazes over as a new rush of endorphins flood through me. My lax muscles try to let me flatten against the bed, but he won’t let me. He keeps my ass in the air even as my face presses against the bedding, continuing his brutal fucking despite his teeth still being locked around my slim neck. His growl is unwavering, commanding.

  And then, I twist my neck around.

  I don’t know why I do it—it’s an instinctive movement that comes from the deepest parts of my primal self, but when his teeth are wrested free and then graze over a new spot, my body is suddenly filled with an electric current of excitement.

  It feels like nothing I’ve ever felt before, and my panted moan is entirely involuntary.

  My alpha stiffens behind me, his movements coming to a complete halt. For three full seconds we are like frozen in time.

  Then, he bites down.

  Hard.

  I whimper as pain lances through me, but it hurts so good and I don’t want him to stop.

  His growl is different now, though I can’t pinpoint what’s changed. When he begins to fuck me again, I stop caring.

  “Harder!” I plead into the mattress. I don’t know if I mean his cock or his teeth, but I get both.

  I yowl as he resumes his pounding of my defenseless pussy with an aggression that rivals anything he’s given me before, but his teeth at the back of my neck keeps me in place despite the vicious assault on my tender sex.

  Only when something hard and bulgy begins to swell at the very bottom of his cock does he release my neck with a snarl, digging his fingers into my hips to ensure I stay put.

  He’s about to knot.

  If it wasn’t for the endorphins from his bite still lingering in my blood I might have struggled, but I don’t have any fight left in my body. All I can do is grip the sheets and cry as he forces the still-swelling knot into my gaping pussy with every thrust.

  Soon, it begins to catch on my already tormented opening, making him grunt with effort every
time he pops it in or out of me. It sends shock waves of raw pleasure laced with dull throbs of pain to the very stem of my brain, and soon I’m babbling pleas at him to end it.

  When he finally does, I suddenly remember with painful clarity why I was so scared of taking his knot again in the first place.

  With one final roar, the masked alpha grabs my hips tightly and forces me back against him at the same time as his hips surge forward. The nearly full-sized knot catches against my splayed lips for two long, agonizing seconds—and then snaps inside with a lewd pop.

  I can’t even scream. My mouth is open in a silent wail, my fingers clawing long tears into the mattress beneath me. I am so full I can’t contain it, so completely conquered it feels like the rapid heartbeat threatening to burst through my chest is his instead of my own. It’s like heaven and hell in one, and I’m sure I’m losing what’s left of my shattered mind.

  Two fingers press hard against my clit, rubbing it roughly, and I break.

  Everything is darkness.

  * * *

  I come to to the sensation of utter and complete calm.

  A deep rumbling sound vibrates through my back and penetrates into my very bones. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard, and some far-away part of my mind recognizes it.

  I’m wrapped up in strong arms and pressed against a warmth that can only be the alpha’s chest.

  My alpha’s chest.

  He’s purring for me, and I’m pretty sure I can detect a smugly satisfied note to it.

  His one hand is on my stomach, rubbing the place where I can still feel his knot is locked inside of me.

  “You said it wouldn’t hurt this time.” I should probably be furious with him for what he’s just done to me, but I’m not. Everything inside of me is peace and pleasure. He was right—it doesn’t matter what we thought we wanted before. Now, there is only this. Only us.

  “I said it’d be much more pleasurable this time. Was I wrong?” Yup, he’s definitely smug.

  “Bastard,” I grumble.

  Only his soft chuckle answers me, and soon, his purring lulls me back to sleep, tied to him by my swollen pussy and content to the very core of my being.

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  I lie awake in that half-state between dream and reality for a while.

  It takes me a long time to identify the source of the glorious warmth wrapping around my body as a man’s body, but when I do, the delicious ache deep inside makes sense.

  I smile without opening my eyes and take a deep breath laced with the tang of stale sex and man. It smells like safety and home, and I twist around to bury my nose in its source.

  The man by my side growls sleepily in response to my movement, and iron bands wrap tighter around my body, pulling me closer. As if he wants to ensure I don’t leave his side.

  Nothing could be farther from my mind. I’ve never felt this good, this safe, in my entire life, and I’m in no hurry to end it.

  It must be at least half an hour later before consciousness finally brushes away the lingering sense of dreamy bliss.

  Sleepily, I open my eyes and am immediately greeted with the unpleasant reminder that I forgot to remove my makeup last night. My eyelashes stick together like glue, and there’s a cakey feeling clogging my skin from whatever is leftover from my foundation. Yuck.

  I rub at my eyes in an attempt at unsticking my lashes, and am rewarded with another growl from my bed partner. A large hand rounds on my right breast in a possessive gesture that makes the night’s events come back to me all at once and in high-definition.

  Shit.

  The intruder.

  …Who I let fuck me silly right after he told me I was his.

  Slowly, I force my eyelashes apart and look at the man—the alpha—I’ve shared my bed with, despite the fact that I still don’t know who he is.

  His mask is still in place, but he looks like he’s fast asleep, despite the growled warning for me to stay put. Must have been another alpha instinct—ensuring the woman he sees as his doesn’t stray too far while he’s asleep.

  Dammit.

  How have I let myself fall into the kind of trap I always swore I was too smart for? I’ve always rolled my eyes at the women hanging off their alpha’s arm like obedient little puppets, believing them to be too pathetic and weak-willed to stand up for themselves. And here I am, still sore between the legs from being knotted like a whore, and even though I should be disgusted with myself for what I’ve allowed him to do—and say—I can’t deny the warm feeling of finally being complete in my stupid chest.

  Gently, I brush my fingertips over the back of my neck where he bit me. He didn’t break the skin, but there is a sore reminder that makes me wince at the slightest touch. I’m undoubtedly sporting teeth-shaped bruises.

  I vaguely recall something from those biology lessons back in high school, about how alphas mark their mates. Biting their necks so a scar forms, as a symbol of their eternal bond.

  A shudder travels through me at the thought of how close I was to carrying his mark on me for life, but it’s not of horror like it should be.

  Yearning.

  I am so fucked.

  I stare at the still-sleeping alpha. His soft lips and strong jaw are fully relaxed, and he looks almost innocent. Only the black mask remains as a constant reminder of what kind of man he truly is. A thug. A criminal, who hides his identity even from the woman he claims belongs to him.

  Well, if he thinks he can come into my home and mount me like a feral beast without even showing me his face, he’s wrong.

  I am careful not to disturb him again as I let my fingertips edge closer to his black mask. As gently as I can, I peel the high-tech fabric up, exposing high cheekbone, pale skin and…

  For the longest moment, all I can do is stare at the sleeping man who has deceived me so gruesomely.

  Peter Leod doesn’t stir at the hiss of air when I finally realize I’ve been holding my breath.

  With the renewed flow of oxygen comes a rush of anger so intense it manages to burn away the sated feeling of contentment.

  “You have got to be kidding me!”

  Gray eyes flutter open at my sharp outburst, the pupils only momentarily unfocused before he quickly scans the room. Looking for a threat, like the stereotypical alpha he is.

  I prod his bare chest with a finger to regain his attention. Hard. “Peter freakin’ Leod? Mister ‘Oh, alphas need to rein in their instincts to not oppress others’. The same man who not twenty-four hours ago told me he had nothing to do with my Cinderella-invite to the masquerade, and yet here you are, in my bed, because you demanded payment for that stupid ticket!”

  His fingers goes to his uncovered face, tracing the upturned edge of the mask. A deep sigh escapes him, and he pushes it off completely.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No? Why not, are you going to dump me in the river now? Imagine what would happen if the public realized you got your rocks off on going all alpha on some lowly reporter girl. Your precious image would be ruined!”

  Okay, so maybe it’s not the smartest thing to antagonize the powerful alpha like that, but I’m too pissed to care. For reasons I can’t even pinpoint I feel so betrayed it’s all I can do not to start swinging at him.

  “It’s not like that,” Leod says. He sits up and tries to reach for me, but I’m having none of it.

  I push myself away from him, folding my arms over my naked breasts. “No, then what’s it like, Peter? Can I call you Peter now? You did just spend half the night with your cock inside of me. I’d like to think I’m on a first name basis with the high-fliers who roll into my bed whenever they damn well please. The ones I actually know the identity of, of course.”

  “It’s just until after the election. I was going to court you the proper way once it no longer matters who I’m seen with. I didn’t want the complication of you knowing my identity, and risking others finding out.”

  “Excuse m
e?” I hiss. “I might not be some upper class tart, but I’m not the one who’s dropping bodies left, right and center. If anyone has any reason to hide this affair, it’s me!”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Leod scrubs his face with both hands before he looks at me again. There’s a hint of the dark possessiveness from last night in his gaze again, but I’m far too livid to respond to it. “I’m not able to think when I’m around you, Leigh. Ever since you Presented for me during that damn press conference, I’ve not been able to get you out of my head. I think about you every waking second of every day, and I dream about you every fucking night! I can’t be around you when I’m trying to win the election, because you make me go primal in the worst of ways.”

  “I didn’t Present for you! There was a room full of damn alphas, and—”

  “You Presented for me,” he interrupts, with more than a hint of a growl in his voice. “I saw you—I felt you. You Presented for me, no one else, and don’t ever think differently.”

  “That’s it!” I scramble to my feet and halfway fall out of bed, pointing one finger at the door. I’m so pissed I’m shaking, and I don’t even care that I’m giving him a full view of my naked body. It’s not like he hasn’t seen every part of it already. “I’m not putting up with this high-handed alpha bullshit for one more moment, you got it? You don’t want people to know you’re just like every other alpha out there, then you get the hell out of my bed! I’m not putting up with your hypocritical crap, when you’ve just spent the night forcing every damn alpha stereotype on me, making me bend to your will every step of the way. You’re a liar and a fraud, and I want nothing more to do with you! You hear me? Nothing! Now get the hell out of my home!”

  For the longest moment he just sits there, staring at me with dark anger, and I’m sure he’s going to refuse. But then, he gets up. With measured movements he picks his clothes that lay scattered on the floor up and pulls them on, leaving only the mask behind.